Second Best
by beeskneesDeductions
Summary: You weren't sure when it happened. Before the game, you had worshipped the ground Bro walked on. During it, you had been angry at Bro, angry in that way you can only feel at someone once they've died. Furious that he had died, that he had shattered everything you had thought about him: that Bro was not, in fact, invincible. A tumblr request. Implied Stridercest. Sadstuck.


Requested by shatteronimpact on tumblr after a silly reblog asking for them.

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You weren't sure when it happened. Before the game, you had worshipped the ground Bro walked on. During it, you had been angry at Bro, angry in that way you can only feel at someone once they've died. Furious that he had died, that he had shattered everything you had thought about him: that Bro was not, in fact, invincible. Bro was not the strongest or fastest or most skilled man alive. Bro was not a god to be adored from afar, but an actual human. A human who died just as quickly when run through with a sword, as the average man.

It hurt how, you had always believed Bro was a god, but now here you were, immortal, while he was just dead.

That's why, when Rose informed you that Bro was alive in that new universe, roughly your age, you begged, pleaded, screamed at the fates to make Jack Noir catch up before you reached the new Earth. You didn't want to see him again; he was dead. Your Bro was _dead_. This was just a new kid sauntering in, with his hair and his voice and his mind, but not his life. He didn't have you. He wouldn't remember you. He wasn't the one who you had always thought was made of lightning.

This was some kid who played some stupid game and didn't know you existed. He stole your brother's name, and you were frightened he wouldn't respect it. You were scared, worried to death he would be too shitty at fighting, too cocky with his intellect, too young to be strong enough, too inexperienced to live up to the name of Bro Strider.

That's why, on the day you arrived, the day before Bec would show up, you avoided everyone else. You were a coward, and you knew that. You were scared of him, some fifteen-year-old with your Bro's shades and his way of speaking.

You hated him. You hated Bro, _your _Bro, for dying. If he hadn't, you were pretty damn sure all of you wouldn't have to have initiated the scratch. You would've won.

Bec arrived, and you put all of your hate and anger and frustration into ever swing of your broken blade. The others were all on your side, fighting him just as hard as you were, but it wasn't the same for them. He had killed their families, yes, but you knew they weren't as upset about it as you were. Rose was capable of rationalizing her depression, and had already moved through all the stages of mourning. John had put his feelings aside; from what you had heard, he was focused one hundred percent on the game and finally winning it. And Jade had lost Bec, but she seemed able to cope with destroying his evil counterpart, especially with Bec Blanche helping.

You didn't think about the fact that the new universe's kids were helping, or what remained of the trolls. You didn't notice them. All you saw was Bec Noir, and the angry red that swam behind your eyes.

When The Demon had finally been slain, John and Jade immediately got to work planning with the trolls for their game plan. You weren't caught up on what was going on, so you fully intended to turn around and leave again.

Rose's nimble, slender fingers immediately latched onto your sleeve, and all of your fight flared up once more. You didn't want her touching you, or forcing you to talk to her (or others.) She swiftly turned you around and shoved you in the general direction of the new universe's kids. From the small, rare snipits of conversation you heard from Rose when she conversed with Kanaya or Karkat, the two groups had banded together to come up with names for each group, to better classify what they meant during discussions and strategy meetings. Your group, the failed one, was the Beta group. Their group, the void one, was the Alpha group.

Even behind your shades, you avoided looking at him. You got an eyeful of starry sky, something you had missed for quite a long time, before Rose nudged you once more. Your eyes snapped forward, more to keep youself steady rather than because she wanted you to look at him.

And you finally saw him, finally laid eyes on the fifteen-year-old that wore your brother's name.

He was exactly like your Bro, and yet similarly everything was wrong. He held himself the same way Bro had, in that manner that declared "I know I'm all that, but it's okay because I don't care." He had the same wild mess of hair, the same pointed shades from some anime, the same expressions.

And yet when he spoke, he was so much different. You assumed, through the family resemblance, that he was speaking to Rose's teenage mom. He said more than you remembered Bro saying ever in your lifetime, and it hurt to hear how closely his manner of speaking resembled Rose's. He was leaner, and shorter, to the point where you were almost his height. He didn't have a hat on his head, and didn't have the polo or the pokerface.

And then his head turned to face you, and he wasn't straight faced. You could tell, from years studying your Bro and the others around you, that the way his cheeks lifted, the way his shades shifted, that his eyes were wider. A small smile broke out on his face, and it made you feel sick.

He mumbled something to her and with an exagerated hand gesture on Rose's mom's behalf, he was walking towards you, before both of you were face to face, and you could see the outline of his eyes through his glasses.

"Hello," he said simply. It wasn't a greeting. It was a statement. "I see the ever-allusive Dave Strider has finally decided to show his famous face."

You narrowed your eyes, but remained silent. You ignored the hand he offered out to you.

The way his face fell once he realized you were ignoring him, it pissed you off to no extent. He had no right to be upset with you. He didn't know you. You didn't know him. He was not your Bro, and you were pretty certain that whatever you had been in that universe, would've meant nothing to him.

"I'm sorry." He put his hands in his pockets, and gave you this subtly concerned look. "I heard from Roxy's mother what happened."

You clenched your jaw, forcing your lip to not tremble. You would not show weakness. That would disrespect Bro's memory and everything he taught you.

"It's alright to hate me."

Your mind shut off as all you heard after that moment was the sound of your heart breaking. With a sob, pushed past your lips with every bit of air in your lungs, you cried, cried in front of this boy you didn't know, who had your brother's hair and his eyes and his glasses and his voice and his mind and you could never hate him, you loved him, he was your brother and you loved him, you hated him for dying but you loved him when he had been alive.

He stepped closer and put his arms around you, and you gripped his t-shirt tight enough that you might've torn a hole in it, and you were probably close to strangling him but you also wanted to kiss him, to never let him go, because this was your Bro and you missed him so badly and now you had him again and it was too good to be true except it was too good to be true because _this wasn't him _but you didn't even care because it was close enough and

"I love you, too," he murmured, and you didn't even realize you had spoken.

You buried your head into his shoulder and let him hold you as you finally let your anger wash away.


End file.
